


A little death never killed anyone

by straycatblues



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:27:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straycatblues/pseuds/straycatblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The worst part is empathizing with the killers, but part of Will's burden is empathizing with the victims, too.</p><p>Prompt fill, requested at hannibalkink.dreamwidth.com.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A little death never killed anyone

His mind is dark.That's how some would like to think of it,dark and always prone to getting darker,a small beehive where his bees work to become blood,to become a nicely unaffected crime scene made by a truly affected individual.

Except it's not really like that.His mind is blank,his mind is a canvas getting splattered with all the different colours one serial killer might possess.One's thoughts,one's feelings,one's actions,he can start to understand,to anticipate,to assess them and lead the cops to them.A little bee making his way from his hive to the flowers,while collecting more than a little pollen.

It troubles him,to say in the least,thinking the thoughts,feeling the feelings,dancing the coldblooded dance. Will dreams,Will shakes himself awake and has to remember he did not drive antlers through a girl,did not carve wings into men,did not make compost to mushrooms,and it's hard and it terrifies him and he has to sleepwalk to avoid the nightmares.

But there are two sides to every coin.The empathy can go both ways.

The victims had colours,too,many more than the rich red their blood could ever speak of.Will could count them,sometimes,and let them wash over him.

Purple- small bruise on the rib cage. Dead lips and asphyxiation-blue.Yellow-decomposing flesh.Pink-fresh scratces,occured before death.Green- true fear,the background of a racing heart.White,it means death.

They mix,and Will has to run from them in his sleep,feeling his legs giving up,trembling,the only sound coming from behind him.The killer is hungry.

Sometimes he's in a forrest,maybe of big,old pines, admiring their strenght,not too long before his skin princkles in the cold.Other times,he's close to a gas station,waiting in the dark for a car to pass by and call out for help.But most of the time,he's in his house,in his bedroom,getting dressed. And then,he finds him and chases Will,knocking furniture around.  
His steps are pounding into the victims ears,like a clock.

And Will can't run forever,not because the victim always dies,but because he plays the killer,too,and you can't run forever from youself.


End file.
